If Only
by lauredilian
Summary: Two hearts. Two lives. One decision. Not related to the movie with Jennifer Love Hewitt in it. First story so please be nice :


"Hey"

I inhaled as deeply as I could, without seeming too obvious. I suddenly felt like a diver who had no idea how deep the water was and yet still willing to take that leap of fate, no matter what the consequence. Funny how moments like this can send your mind in imagination—and not to mention, metaphorical—overdrive.

How long has it been since I heard that voice? How long has it been since my heart beat this fast in a feverish frenzy that could cause me to lose my sanity faster than I could blink?

I slowly turned and tried hard to stop the sudden rush of blood and heat to my cheeks, but that stupid grin of his warned me that I failed miserably. But then again, who has the power to stop themselves from blushing?

"Hey"

I sounded nervous, yet excited. Damn it.

"Is that all I get? After all these years?"

He opened his arms wide, inviting me to enclose themselves around me. I smiled, and for a moment I felt like my old self again; it only took three quick strides before I was crushed to his chest, inhaling his familiarly sweet and husky scent that I grew to miss and love. I remember how my nose would scrunch up when the wind blew in my direction, sending that smell along; it was a cross between peppermint mixed with tobacco and my Dad's Old Spice aftershave with a hint of lemon. It doesn't make sense, I know, but that's the best I can come up with at the moment.

As I laid my head on his chest—I'm a few inches shorter than him; he never fails to tease me about it every chance he gets—I couldn't help but feel that this is exactly how things should be: me in his arms, us in our favorite spot along the pier, the sun setting behind us as we stood there, the waves lapping at our bare feet with no one to bother us. It was just me and him.

But, alas, we both came for a different reason.

I listened to the steady beating of his heart for an unknown amount of time. I didn't want to pull away. It would feel like I'm waking up from the best dream I've ever had; where I get what I want, no strings attached, where I'm happy and contented, where what I have will stay with me for the rest of my life. I don't want this dream to end.

"I miss this", he said softly as he tilted my chin up to look at him. I gazed into those stormy gray eyes of his, allowing myself to drown in their depths with no intention of ever resurfacing. It was those eyes that haunted me for days, weeks, and years after that fateful day.

"Me too", I replied. As my breath brushed against his face, I felt him shiver and I saw his eyes darken. I watched as different emotions flicker across his face. Confusion, pain, hope and—love?

No. No. No. That was just a trick of the light. That couldn't be.

He sighed and I felt his arms loosen their hold on me; I started to panic, knowing that this may be the last time that I will ever get to hold him this close. To see him again. To feel that he belonged to me and no one else.

To feel that he loved me.

"No", I said desperately as I tightened my grip. Not too tight, but just enough for him to understand what I want—or don't—want to happen.

He didn't even hesitate as he held me tighter than before. I inwardly prayed that he's feeling whatever I'm feeling, otherwise I'd think that he doesn't care. Or never did.

"Can we just stay this way?" he murmured into my hair. "Forever?"

_That sounds fine to me_, I thought happily. I responded by sighing and holding him even tighter. His heartbeat was moving a little faster than its normal pace and I couldn't help but smile. I looked up at him and saw that his eyes were half-closed, savoring each minute that we had together; because we both knew that this could be our last.

"When did things get so complicated?" he chuckled weakly.

I didn't have the heart to respond so I settled for a half-shrug. I knew that what happened to us was already running through his head so I didn't expect him to say anything for a while. Those were painful memories and I didn't think that he'd want to be interrupted in his musings.

"What are you thinking of right now?" he suddenly asked, jerking me from my reverie.

"Us", I said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You mean what became of us", he corrected me.

_Or what was left of us_. "Yeah. You're right", I said.

He slowly released me, and for once I was grateful for it or else I would have lost my mind if we kept that up any longer. We gazed at each other, neither of us willing to break contact first.

"You haven't changed", I said as I gently stroked his cheek.

"Neither have you", he replied, grabbing my hand and kissing my palm. "Seems only like yesterday when I last saw you".

"Well, that was yesterday", I said lightly.

"You know what I mean", he said, eyes dancing.

I smiled and nodded and I watched as his smile grew wider than mine. How could I be in heaven when I knew that hell was already calling me?

He looked down on me, and said, "I'm sorry. Can you ever forgive me?"

I lightly placed my forefinger on his lips and closed my eyes. "It's over. There's nothing we can do about it now. It's too late".

He held my gaze for a while longer before sighing. "Well, I guess we should get this over with".

That feeling of dread squeezed my heart so tight that I fought hard to breathe. I needed to focus. I needed to remember why we were both here in the first place. I needed to think straight.

He pulled me towards a dead log, keeping his hand tightly wound around mine, and waited for me to sit before he did. He looked down at our joined hands and I saw his lips turn upward for a moment, probably thinking back on the times that we used to do that without fear or shame.

"Who should start?" he asked, still staring.

I took a deep breath. "I guess I should", I said. I waited for him to respond, but he didn't look up; he was already tracing circles on my hand with his thumb. I took another deep breath.

"Well," I said slowly, "after we broke up, I moved to the States because Dad was there. He wanted me to stay with him for a while, until he was settled in before school started again. He kept me busy by asking my cousins or aunts to take me around and see the sights and everything. I enjoyed myself, but—"I faltered. No, I shouldn't break down. Not now. "But I missed you. I missed calling you, talking to you. I missed everything about you. All I wanted to do was jump on the next plane going home just to see you again. But I couldn't. It hadn't really sunken in that we were over, that we were no longer together. I had to force myself to look in the mirror everyday and say that you no longer belonged to me. I kept repeating it to myself until I believed in it."

I paused to take another deep breath. Here comes the hard part.

"And then I met him. I met Steve". I felt his hand twitch from underneath mine, but other than that he didn't move. "I was at the park one day and I came across a dog trying to chase a squirrel. They passed by me so fast that I didn't have time to brace myself; I lost my balance and someone caught me". I stopped. I didn't think I should go on, but my mouth had a mind of its own.

"He asked me if I was okay, which I said I was. We started talking, then he offered to have coffee before heading home. At first I didn't want to since I hardly knew him but I thought that it was the least I can do to the guy who prevented my face from hitting the pavement. So we talked for a few hours, got to know each other a little bit. When it was time to leave, he asked for my number. I couldn't give it to him because I was only borrowing my cousin's phone and that I was all set to leave in a few weeks. So he opted for my e-mail address, which I gave. We ran into each other a few more times after that and we kept our daily stream of e-mails flowing. Even after I've left and gone home, he never failed to send me an e-mail every day."

I took a quick peek at him from my peripheral vision, and I noted the slight crease on his forehead, the deep frown, and the tight jaw. His hold on my hand hadn't changed.

"Six months after that, he informed me that he was coming over to visit. We weren't together yet, but I could sense that we were getting close to that. When he arrived, the first thing he did was ask for my parents' permission to court me, which they were a bit hesitant to give at first, but he eventually won them over. About two months after that, we became a couple. He had to go back home to keep working, but we still kept in touch. This went on for about four years."

My eyes squeezed shut and I bit my lip to stop myself from tearing up. I could already feel the build-up of tears.

"And just last Christmas, five months to the day, he proposed", I said quietly. "When he did, I hesitated. Because all the while that we were together, I couldn't help but compare him to you. I never forgot about you. I felt bad for him because he didn't know that I was practically cheating on him just by thinking of you. I loved him, yes, but, he doesn't have what you have".

"And what's that?" he asked, his voice full of sadness.

The tears came before I could stop them. I sniffed and I had to bite back a cry, but I had to say what I had to say. "My heart".

He closed his eyes, and I could see that he was close to losing it as well; he bent his head and kissed my hand, the one that he was holding, before straightening up again.

"But in the end, I accepted. I couldn't refuse him. He's been nothing but nice to me and I owe him my life for making me happy again," I continued. "I thought that everything was going to go smoothly. I started making plans for the wedding, which is to take place the day after tomorrow. And yesterday, I went to the flower shop to check up on our reservations, when I heard that another couple was to get married about the same time as ours so they were very busy."

I had to stop. I didn't think that I could handle it anymore. The pain intensified and my chest was already heaving as my breathing turned to soft sobs.

"And that was when I saw you".

Tears were falling from his eyes, too. He let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer than we already were. I laid my head on my shoulder as I continued to cry.

"I thought I was dreaming", I said. "I didn't want to believe that it was you. But it was. And you were getting married, too. I felt my heart swell then shatter into a million pieces. I didn't think that our paths will cross, now that I've gone on with my life. But I was wrong. When I saw you, I—I couldn't help but think of what could have been between us. You know as well as I do that we were at the prime of our lives; we loved each other to death and it was in plain sight for the entire world to see. And it all came crashing down too soon".

Although I couldn't see his face, I knew he was still crying; his entire body was practically shaking from the sobs and he kept sniffing a few times. He rubbed his hand up and down my arm as I let out a small wail of despair. The memories came flooding back and I couldn't stop them anymore. Five years of suppressed feelings, thoughts and emotions burst from my heart and mind, making me dizzy as if I had hit a concrete wall dozens of times. I no longer knew what to say or feel because the pain anesthetized everything else; I felt the frustration, the depression, the anger, the hate, the betrayal; and the love.

Of all the things I was feeling, that was the strongest of them all. Deep down, I knew that I never stopped loving him; his comparison to Steve was enough proof of that. I never stopped hoping for another chance to make things right in our relationship. And I never stopped hoping that somehow, he will keep on loving me as well; despite the fact that the odds were stacked against us.

We continued to hold each other, as the tears continued to fall. After what seemed like eons later, he took a deep breath and said resignedly, "It's my turn".

He gently unwrapped his arm around me, took hold of my hand again and gazed out towards the setting sun. Even at a time like this, I couldn't help but admire how beautiful he was—his fine nose, prominent cheekbones, soft lips, hair brown as a rusting doorknob. And I loved him. Oh, sweet fury, how I loved him.

"After we parted ways", he finally said, "I helped Dad in running the family business; he was still pretty strong despite his age. He kept going and going, and I allowed myself to get so involved that I totally forgot who I was. There were times when I'd enter the office, and all I'd answer to was "Sir"; I lost my identity. I lost my sanity. I didn't want to dwell on what could have been. I became a robot. I couldn't even remember how long I was like that. My Dad was so concerned for me that he asked if I wanted to see a doctor. He was the only one who understood why I was acting that way, but I didn't say anything. I didn't want him to be too worried. After that, I tried to loosen up a bit; I did a bit of partying here and there, just to show everyone that I was fine, that I was happy, when all I wanted to do was bury myself alive. Even after Mom passed away—" he broke off.

My breath caught in my throat. I didn't think I wanted to hear that. After all, she was the reason why our relationship ended so abruptly. Then that meant, after she was gone, we could have..

He paused, and looked down at our hands. He sighed, and looked at me. "I kept thinking that you were happy without me. That separating was what was really best for us. But the little voice in my head won't let me rest because I knew I was lying to myself".

He reached up and brushed away a strand of hair from my eyes. "You were my everything. You were my life. I stopped living when we were through. I stopped being me."

I touched his hand and said softly, "But you lived again".

"Not after a long time", he answered ruefully before turning away again. "My Dad threw a party in my honor, because I was just promoted to CEO of the company. Not after how many years of working, of course. He may be my Dad, but I insisted that I do things by myself. So anyway, at the party, I was introduced to this and that young woman; I knew what he was doing. He wanted me to find someone else so I could forget about you. I told him he was wasting his time, but he kept on insisting; I let him have his way, because I didn't want him to feel bad. And that was when I saw her—Chelsea."

Oh, God, I thought. Do I want to know about her? Just hearing her name made my heart break all over again. No, I have to suck it all in and be quiet. Sweet torture, make it fast!

"She was the daughter of one of my Dad's directors. I didn't really pay attention to what he said when we were introduced, but when she spoke, I had to look at her".

"Why?" I asked.

"Call me crazy, but when those words came out of her mouth, I thought she was you", he said wistfully. "And when I really looked at her, I thought I was dreaming. I thought I was looking at you. She looked so much like you. If the two of you were in the same room together, you could have been easily mistaken for twins. When my Dad saw my reaction, he realized that it was a mistake; so he kept me busy that night, but it was too late. The damage was done. I couldn't get her out of my head. I was still clinging to whatever I had that reminded me of you. And there she was."

"I took her out on dates and I got to know her more. You may look alike, but your personalities are polar opposites. But I didn't care. As long as when I see her, and I see you, I'm contented."

I shook my head. "That's wrong", I commented.

"I know. Dad didn't really approve of it, even when I said that I wanted to marry her because he knew that I didn't love her. I was in love with what she reminded me of".

"She asked me to check up on some of the last-minute arrangements. The florist we hired fell through so we had to look for another one. And that was what led me to you".

He shifted so he was facing me again, then he leaned in and kissed my forehead. "Who knew that the Fates could be so troublesome?" he said.

"I couldn't agree with you more. We haven't seen each other for the longest time, and we meet just days before our wedding. How ironic", I said dryly.

He tilted my chin upwards and I couldn't help but shiver at his touch. "Do you think it's a sign?"

"What do you mean?"I said.

"Do you think it means that we really are meant for each other, despite the circumstances?"

"But we're already promised to other people. How can that be so?"

"A test? To see if we truly do love each other".

"Always the hopeless romantic, aren't you?"

"Well, what's stopping us? Aside from the obvious. Mom's gone. She won't make our lives miserable like before."

My thoughts whirled back to that day, when he took me to his house. We planned to go out to the movies earlier, but we were feeling too lazy to go out, so we decided to watch DVDs instead. As he was upstairs, checking his massive collection, his mother came down the stairs, looking like the empress of an empire. She was tall, beautiful—and proud.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am", I said respectfully.

"Ah, yes. Good afternoon to you as well", she said.

She continued to glide down the stairs, not once breaking eye contact with me. I've already met her a few times prior to that afternoon, but I never had a real decent conversation with her, despite me being with her son for nearly three years. She was always abroad and I only knew of her arrivals when her son would bring me a small token of some sort from her.

But that day, I've had that sense of foreboding that I felt like something bad was going to happen. Apparently, I was right.

"You are Chad and Rosalie's daughter, am I correct?" she said, as soon as she stood in front of me.

"Yes, Ma'am", I said.

"Hmmmm". She circled around me, scrutinizing me from head to toe. I suddenly felt like a part of an exhibit in an art museum, always criticized, less appreciated.

"Yes, you have a striking resemblance to your mother", she said. Something seemed off with the way she said it, and I grew more nervous.

"Thank you", I said, but with a bit of uncertainty.

"Don't take that as a compliment. You're lucky that's all you have", she snapped.

I was taken aback by her outburst, but I didn't dare to ask her why, although I'm sure that it showed in my face, for she smiled grimly.

"I knew your parents. We all grew up together. Your father and I were so in love with each other when we were younger. But I later found out that he was going out with your mother behind my back. I never really forgave him for that", she said. A chill went down my spine as she spoke, and I knew that I was doomed.

"I could easily forgive you for what your parents committed, and it is very unfair to you since you knew nothing of it, but you remind me so much of the bitch that stole the heart of the first man I ever loved", she continued icily. If looks could kill, I could have disintegrated on the spot; she looked at me with such hatred that it can cause even Adolf Hitler's moustache to tremble.

At that moment, her son appeared and I relaxed a little bit. When he escorted me to the living room, she followed us with her eyes until she disappeared from view. I told him about our little encounter and he was visibly upset at his mother for having the nerve to talk to me in that manner. I told him to let it go, and for a while he did.

But she started to meddle in our relationship since then. She'd keep him from seeing me on our anniversary, and she refuses to give the phone to him when I would call. Things got so hard for us, and she even went as far as to plant some very ugly rumors about me; the worst being that I was pregnant with five different guys as possible fathers. We both had enough and decided to just let her shoot her mouth off as much as she liked.

It definitely strained our relationship. Despite the ludicrous accusations, there were times when he would doubt me. We had our first fight because of that. Until one day, he decided to call it quits. I tried to convince him that everything was false and that I only really loved him. When I finally gave up on him, that was the time I went to the States.

How long has it been since then? It felt like eternity.

"But I'm engaged to Steve. And your engaged to Chelsea. We have our promises to keep", I said sadly to his present self.

"Is that what you really want?" he said slowly. He squeezed my hand tighter as if to emphasize his point.

"We had our chance to be together. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be". My eyes had dried up by now but I still sounded like I had the cold. As if he fared any better.

"If only it was possible to turn back time and start over, then maybe we could still be together", he said.

"I know. If only".

We stayed in the same spot, not talking, not moving, until the sun disappeared and dusk settled in.

"Shall we?" he said and I could hear the hesitancy in his voice. Neither one of us wanted to leave, but we had to. I didn't say anything, so I just stood up and waited for him to do the same.

We walked along the sand, holding hands, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. We absorbed the silence, the steady rhythm of our hearts, the feeling of each other's touch—whatever we could grasp in those last minutes together.

He stopped, and turned to face me. He cupped my face in his hands, leaned in and kissed me softly. It was exactly how I remembered his kisses as I lay awake in bed, wishing that Steve would kiss like that. It was sweet, tender, slow, yet passionate. A jolt of electricity shot through my body as I instinctively wrapped my arm around his neck and deepened the kiss. It felt so wonderful to relive the times when we would do this all the time, when we were still together. I felt like floating on air, lying among the clouds in utter euphoria.

Slowly, our lips separated and he rested his forehead on mine, his breath blowing hot against my face. "I missed that", he said.

"Me too", I answered breathlessly.

He looked into my eyes, and held my hands. "I just want you to be happy. I hope Steve can make up for the times I screwed up. I hope he makes you happy more than I did".

Then reality hit me. By this time tomorrow, I would be a married woman; not to him, but to Steve. The gravity of the situation finally sank in, and I knew that I didn't want us to part again.

"He can never make me happy more than you", I said, trying in vain to choke back the tears that were building up. "I'll always love you".

"I know. And I'll always love you. Never forget that", he vowed softly.

My grief became too overwhelming that I threw my arms around him and sobbed my heart out. He hugged me back fiercely, and I could feel his need for making me stay. My logic kicked in, and I knew that if I don't leave now, I'll never have the strength and will to do it later.

I tried to muster whatever courage I had left, and let him go. I stared at him, drinking in his appearance, before I gave him a quick kiss and whispered "I love you" against his lips then I slowly walked backwards; he was still holding on to my hands and each step I took, loosened our hold. When it was only our fingers touching, I looked at him and suddenly felt weak at the knees. He was beckoning me to stay, to hold on; even though I wanted to, I just couldn't. I took one more step back, and I lost his touch.

I turned and half-ran towards the stone steps that led to the parking lot. I looked back, and he was still standing there, with his hand outstretched and tears pouring down his face.

My heart was screaming for me to go back to him, but my mind was made up. I will marry Steve tomorrow, and he will marry Chelsea. We will never see each other again after that. We will move on with our lives, and not look back on what could have been.

I faced forward and continued my climb, leaving my heart more broken than it's ever been.

* * *

Okay, that's it. I know it's pretty long, but I didn't want to divide them into chapters.

Quick question: Should I end it here, or do I keep going?

Suggestions much appreciated :D


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